


Tattoo Treatment

by Chelidona (Hobbity), islandkate, Lakritzwolf



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Baby Durins, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 11:24:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18799390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbity/pseuds/Chelidona, https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandkate/pseuds/islandkate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/pseuds/Lakritzwolf
Summary: The librarian in Fíli and Kíli's school is a master storyteller, whose anxieties won't let him publish any of his stories. Thorin, who knows a thing or two about bad mental health, is there to help out.





	Tattoo Treatment

Thursdays were sacred. They were Thorin’s days with his nephews. Both his sister and her husband worked late that day so Thorin picked them up from school and cooked dinner for them. He only lived a couple of streets away from his sister so the arrangement was convenient for everyone involved.

One sunny May afternoon, after picking up some vegetables in the shop and hiding them in his backpack, he was running a little late when he entered the schoolyard. Kíli was outside playing soccer with some of his little friends.

When the young brunet noticed his uncle he gave him a cheery wave. “Fíli’s still in the library”, he shouted.

Thorin nodded at him. Kíli was not a sensible child, but as long as there were other kids to kick a ball around with, he would not run off. He left his younger nephew to it and entered the building. The smell of linoleum was overwhelming as usual. Garish kid’s paintings littered the wall. They nearly obscured the sign that pointed to the library. At this point though, Thorin would have found it blind. Fíli, the most precocious 10 year old on the planet, loved no place better.

The library of the school was a place where time had stood still. That was why Thorin loved it. The glass walls separating it from the hallway were full of handwritten signs and signs clearly created in Word by someone with no skills and no regard for modern design. The furniture was from the 90s. The only thing that looked different than the library from Thorin’s old school was the row of computers - but even those were aged now, probably acquired by the school when the internet was becoming the next big thing.

He expected to see Fíli on his usual spot, a comfy chair near the door, curled up over a book. Instead, he found the boy sitting on the library’s counter, leaning towards the small man behind it.

Both looked up when the door opened, and Fíli’s face split into a big smile. “Uncle Thorin! Can I stay 5 more minutes?”

That was not unusual, but Thorin hesitated. “Your brother is outside and ….”

“Pleeeeeeeeaaase? Mister Baggins has not finished his story.”

Bilbo cleared his throat. How embarrassing. He had not meant to keep the boy so long and truth to be told, everyone in school was a little scared of Fíli and Kíli’s formidable uncle.

“It is quite alright, my dear boy, if you need to go home I can finish it tomorrow.”

“But I want to know if the dwarves defeated the dragon!” Fíli protested. “Mister Baggins, I need to know!”

“If Mister Baggins is reading you a story, we can maybe take out the book?” Thorin suggested. Just to see his nephew’s tiny face form an indignant frown.

“Uncle Thorin, Mister Baggins is not reading me a story. I’m not a baby!”

“So what is this talk about dragons then?”

“He is TELLING me a story,” Fíli informed his uncle in his most teacherly voice, making both Thorin and Bilbo chuckle. “Mister Baggins is a master storyteller and he knows more stories than anyone.”

“I see.” Thorin smiled at the blushing man. “But it is past 4:30, I am sure Mister Baggins needs to finish up and go home.”

“Oh.” Fíli’s face fell. “I’m sorry Mister Baggins, did I distract you?”

“Oh no, oh no,” Bilbo waved his hands about, feeling more flustered by the second. “I’m delighted to tell my stories to such a rapt audience.”

“All right then,” If his nephews had taught Thorin anything, it was how to choose his battles. “Let me collect Kíli and then we’ll pick you up here.”

“Thank you!” Fíli blew a kiss at his uncle.

While Bilbo continued with his story, Thorin went back to the schoolyard, where the last of Kíli’s friends was just being picked up by his father.

Kíli was kicking his ball against the wall, too focused on the task to notice his uncle approaching.

“Kíli?” 

Kíli jumped and gave his uncle a quick hug. “Uncle Thorin!! Where did you come from?”

“The door.”

“Where’s Fíli?”

Thorin laughed, and lifted Kíli up playfully. “Still in the library, Mr. Baggins is telling him a story.”

“Oh, he’s funny. You should hear his imitation of a troll,” Kíli giggled. “But his stories are too long.”

“For little 7 year olds perhaps.” Thorin put him down again.

“Not little,” Kíli crossed his arms. “I’m almost as big as Fíli.”

“Right.” Thorin smiled down. “Let’s go and pick Fíli up.”

Kíli pulled a face. He did not like being dragged indoors. Indoors were for studying (boo), being sick and eating. But for once he did not put up a fight. He did put the big ball under his small arm and followed his uncle inside.

When Thorin opened the door, both he and Kíli were taken aback by loud roaring.

Followed by impish laughter. Fíli almost fell off the counter.

“Your faces! Your faces!”

“I am sorry.” Bilbo hunched his shoulders and felt his face heat up. How embarrassing. “I was just getting to the part where they fight with the dragon.”

Before Thorin could react, Kíli dropped the ball and ran up to the counter. “Do it again, Mr. Baggins! Please!”

Fíli shoved at him. “No, he needs to get on with the story!”

“I want to hear the roar again!” Kíli poked his brother. “And the fight.”

Bilbo looked to where Thorin was picking the dropped ball up from the floor, looking none too pleased.

“Um. I think your uncle wants to go home.”

Thorin shrugged. “If you got the time to finish the story, I got the time to wait.”

Another thing his alone time with his precious nephews had taught him. Before they were born, Thorin had never allowed for any delays. A workaholic, his sister had called him. And in some ways he was still. But not on Thursdays.

He listened as Mr. Baggins reenacted an epic fight with an epic evil dragon during which nobody died and nobody suffered any horrible wounds.

Both children clapped when it was finished. And, of course, demanded another story. That was when Thorin had to stop them.

“Boys, we need to go home. And it’s past closing time for Mr. Baggins as well.”

“Oh, it’s quite all right, it’s not like telling stories is work.” The man smiled brightly. And then looked towards the windows and frowned at the weather which had turned from sunny to torrential rain. “Oh dear. And of course I left my brolly at home.”

“I’m here with the car, if we can drop you off somewhere?”

Bilbo opened and closed his mouth a few times in confusion. “Oh, I would never… it is too much of a hassle … I will be ….”

“Nonsense.” Thorin could never handle dithering. “If you had not told my nephews a story, you’d have been home dry. We’ll drop you off in exchange.”

“Well. If it’s in your direction. Which I don’t think it is.” 

“Where?”

“I live in the Bag End estate off Hobbiton Lane.”

That was indeed not exactly close to Thorin’s home, but a promise was a promise.

“Not to worry. Let’s go.”

Fíli and Kíli were reenacting the fight in the hallway and then in the pouring rain on the way to the car. 

“I’m Bilbo by the way.” The man smiled as rain dripped off his hood while he waited for Thorin to unlock the car. “I feel Mr. Baggins is a bit too formal, don’t you think?”

“My name is Thorin.”

“I knew that.” Bilbo laughed. “You pick up Fíli every Thursday, don’t you?”

“Indeed.” Thorin shovelled his wet nephews into the backseat. “I think I’ve seen you a few times in the library when I pick him up.”

Bilbo let Thorin help him into the passenger seat, pleased that this intimidating man had noticed him.

~*~

The following weeks, Thorin always found Bilbo telling a story to Fíli on Thursdays. Thorin enjoyed listening to the tail ends of these stories, and on occasion he was early enough to almost catch the beginning. On the first Thursday in July, Fíli suddenly remembered that he had forgotten his gym bag and ran off to collect it. Kíli was outside playing football under the supervision of a friend’s mother, so Thorin found himself alone with Bilbo.

The man, who wore a red argyle sweater vest in July, whose hair was a mess of curls, and who had developed dithering into an artform, had captivated Thorin’s heart.

Thorin cleared his throat. “So… those are all your own stories?”

“Mostly, yes.” Bilbo chuckled, fiddling with some books on display. “I love coming up with these silly little fantasy tales for kids and I’ve got to say, some of the pupils here appreciate them, none more than Fíli.”

“Have you published them?”

“Published? Oh. No.”

“You should.” Thorin stood slightly too close and put his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “They are good. They strike the right tone for kids and you can even keep Kíli engaged for more than 5 minutes.”

Bilbo laughed. “That is a challenge indeed. Dragon noises usually do it.”

Thorin nodded. “I’m serious. My cousin knows an editor, if you want to go the traditional route.”

Bilbo felt the panic welling up inside his belly, clawing at his spine and tugging at his brain. It was a struggle just to keep his tone even. “Thank you, that is very kind of you. But I don’t think I’ll publish them.”

There. That hadn’t been too bad. And he hadn’t blurted out anything stupid.

Fíli came running in, swinging his gym bag and the conversation was closed. Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief.

~*~

The summer holidays arrived. Which meant no more opportunities for Bilbo and Thorin to see each other in the library.

Dis and her husband took their sons on holidays for a week, while Thorin worked. He then took a few days off to help take care of his rascally nephews.

The best thing to do, he found, was tiring them out. So on the second day of his tenure as main entertainer, he took his nephews up on the local mountain. It was a wonderful day, mostly blue sky with just enough clouds hanging in the sky to make it more interesting. The trail was bustling with people.

Fíli was dutifully reading all the signs about the planets in their solar system - the trail showed a scaled version of it, starting with a big ball representing the sun and then, at their relative distances, the other planets, including Pluto of course.

Kíli had no interest in planets which, in a seven year old, wasn’t that surprising. Instead he was running around every tree and had sword fights with imaginary enemies.

Thorin, meanwhile, was lugging a heavy picnic basket that Dis had insisted on preparing the night before, despite being wrecked from work. She was working overtime to be able to spend some time with the kids the following week. 

When they came to their favourite picnic area, overlooking the city and the lake, Thorin spotted a familiar head of curls sitting at one of the picnic tables, the only one with enough space left for a big man and two small kids. He calmed his heart. There were many people with gorgeous curly hair.

Of course, most of them weren’t greeted with delighted cries of “Mr. Baggins!” by his nephews.

Bilbo turned around and smiled brightly at the two boys. Fíli had become his favourite kid in the entire school and of course, everyone fell for Kíli’s charm. 

Thorin set his face into his most cordial and slightly detached mode. “Mr. Baggins. What a surprise. Do you mind if we join you?”

“Oh, no, of course not, don’t be silly, I’d be delighted.” Bilbo beamed. He often came up here just to relax, to contemplate nature and to come up with plots for the next story he would tell Fíli. 

“You can have some of our food,” Fíli offered very generously. “Our mum makes the best sarnies.”

“And she packed cookies! I saw her!” Kíli proclaimed, his little hands already on the basket. Thorin pried them off.

“Sarnies and salad first, Kíli.”

Kíli crossed his arms, but Bilbo’s presence kept him from outright rebellion. Then he looked up at Thorin with his big eyes. “But I can get the juice already, yes?”

They all did full justice to the spread Dis had prepared - Bilbo had brought his own sandwich in his little cooler, but he did not have the heart to refuse the sandwich offered to him by Fíli.

Because the stomachs of children worked in mysterious ways, Fíli and Kíli then ran off to the playground next to the picnic area. Obviously they felt no queasiness swinging on ropes right after lunch. They were old enough for Thorin to remain seated - they’d call him if there was an emergency.

“What a surprise to see you here,” he repeated for possibly the fourth time to Bilbo. “I hope we did not disturb you.”

“Really, don’t worry.” Bilbo still smiled. “I like your nephews. I like kids. Once my cousin’s boy Frodo is older I hope to bring him here as well. He’s only two though.”

“I see. Cute age.” ‘Cute’ was not a word Bilbo would have associated with the man.

“Yes.” Bilbo laughed. “Here, look at us. Two modern men, gushing about kids.”

Thorin had to laugh in response. “That would be the first time that somebody calls me modern. I’m usually accused of being old-fashioned.”

“Me too.” Bilbo grinned and Thorin thought he looked even more beautiful. “Dressing ten years older than I am does not help. But it is just lovely to see what a bond you’ve got with your nephews. They adore you.”

Thorin did not even try to suppress the soppy smile that took over his face. “They’re my everything. Our family was in a bad place, but then Fíli was born and he brought all the joy back into our lives.”

“Children have that effect. You cannot dwell on the past when you’re dealing with these little humans who only live in the present.”

“True.” Thorin scratched his head. “And, changing the topic slightly, my editor friend recently came over for dinner. I naturally started talking about my nephews, and Fíli’s love for your stories came up. He seemed to think that those would fill a gap his company currently has in children’s books.”

“Would it?” Bilbo snapped, trying to sound much calmer than he actually was. He could feel the anxiety attack brewing. Hopefully Thorin would believe the heated skin and flush was just a blush brought on by the compliment. He had a cola drink in his cooler. That would help with the head and stomach aches if this continued.

“I’m sorry,” Thorin replied almost softly. His bright smile dissolved into a remorseful frown. “It just came out. I was so proud for you…”

Bilbo’s inner crush on Thorin screeched! He’s proud for you! And you just snapped at him! Way to go, loser!

Unaware of Bilbo’s inner battle, Thorin continued, “and the boys adore you and your stories so much that I wanted to do something to repay you for your friendship and generosity.” He stopped and looked at Bilbo shyly, biting his lip nervously. “Now I fear that I’ve offended you.”

Bilbo panicked, he needed to salvage this situation. Somehow. “No! No, you’ve been nothing but supportive. I’m just this useless writer wannabe that can’t produce even the simplest book. I can tell stories to little children all day, but when I try to put the words on paper, it’s like there’s some goblin in my brain that yanks the wiring loose.” He almost cried with the relief of telling someone and also the shame of saying it out loud. “I’m a totally useless loser and I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again.”

After that Bilbo tears welled up in Bilbo’s eyes, and to his horror he started crying. Those anxiety attacks always turned him into an emotional mess. Thorin did not recoil though; instead he drew Bilbo into a tight hug. The overwhelming feeling of somebody comforting and accepting him at his worst made Bilbo cry a bit more before Thorin’s steady presence calmed him down. They both thought it felt really good but didn’t know how to say it.

Kili, on the other hand, had no trouble whatsoever when the boys came running over for some more sweets. “See, Fi! I told you they was boyfriends!”

Fili stood shocked, eyes like saucers.

“Can I have some cookies now, Auntie Bilbo?” Kili looked directly at Thorin as he said it.

Thorin was looking at Fili and waiting for a reaction. So was Bilbo as he absentmindedly handed Kili several cookies. Kili looked back to see what the big deal was.

A squeak, like a tiny mouse, came from Fili, “Will you tell us bedtime stories?”

Bilbo sputtered, looked at Thorin who just beamed, looked back at Fili who was holding a cookie Kili had given him, and said, “Of course.” What else could he say?

The boys went crazy. Zooming around with their cookies, reenacting their favorite parts of various stories, and generally wearing themselves out.

Thorin put an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders. “ls this okay?” He asked.

Bilbo’s answer was to snuggle in a bit closer while they watched the boys. His anxiety attack almost completely resolved.

“The boys are staying with me tonight if you’d care to come for supper. You can tell them their first bedtime story.”

“Um…”

“Nothing more, I promise, just dinner and a story. Though we should address your feelings and fears at some point in the future. They are entirely untrue. And something we may have in common.”

Bilbo started to reply but Fili returned, carrying a wailing Kili who had tripped over a large rock and injured his knee.

All adult feelings for Bilbo were pushed aside, as Thorin entered full uncle mode. Of course, the injury was only superficial, but some small stones had lodged themselves inside the wound. Well-prepared uncle that he was, Thorin had disinfectant and plasters.

And the little wounded warrior was the one who protested most loudly when Thorin announced that it really was time to go home. Both he and Fíli were consoled, however, when Bilbo promised to come over to tell a bedtime story.

It was Thorin who was panicking inside now. At 45, he should not have crushes like this. And moreover, he should not invite said crush for supper when he had no plans to cook anything fancier than pasta with pesto for the boys and himself. 

As they all walked to the cable car together, Bilbo taking over the job of talking to Fíli about planets this time, while Thorin kept an eye on Kíli, Thorin tried to remember the contents of his freezer. Surely there was something he could come up with that would impress Bilbo at least a little.

~*~

Bilbo came at the appointed hour, 7, and Thorin had finished his simple meal. Simple, but the smell was so beautiful Bilbo salivated as soon as he entered the house and not only because Thorin was wearing a shirt that showed off some of the hair on his broad chest. Being pulled against that broad chest in a welcoming hug did not help calming down Bilbo’s hormones in the slightest.

The pasta with wild garlic pesto (courtesy of Dis) was prefaced by a simple pea soup, garnished with basil. The boys loved their peas, so there were no complaints. 

Conversation at dinner remained superficial by necessity, with the boys taking turns talking. After dinner, Bilbo insisted on helping to clean the kitchen. But even then, with kids running in and out, they kept their conversation to simple, safe topics. Thorin talked about the school he attended on the other side of the country. Never mentioning his grandfather’s unfortunate feud with the local crime cartel or his grandfather’s and father’s tendency to act as greedy tyrants in the town they practically owned. 

Bilbo talked about his own time, growing up in the part of the city he still lived. He did not mention that, as the only child of overprotective parents with overbearing large families, he had never felt prepared for life on his own or to take any risks.

The promise of a bedtime story from Bilbo made both boys actually eager to be in bed on time. And Bilbo delivered on his promise. With more time than he usually had between Fíli’s last class and the time Thorin felt they really needed to go home, Bilbo took the time for more reenactments and more side quests. Thorin was leaning in the doorframe, watching Bilbo fascinate his nephews.

Of course it took a while for the boys to actually fall asleep. When that happened, Thorin had several bottles of wine lined up in the living room, to let Bilbo choose which one he preferred. 

It lead into a 10 minute discussion on wine, a topic they were both passionate about, before they decided on which bottle to uncork.

And that was enough of a warm up for Thorin, who had never been a big fan of small talk.

“As I said earlier today. I understand that you’re blocked. Or have this Goblin. But I believe in fighting our inner orcs.” He turned his forearm to display the tattoos on both sides. A sword on the right arm, a shield on the left. “To cut a long story short, I was 18, I had to bury my grandfather, my father, my mother and my little brother who died a very violent death. I had a baby sister I was suddenly responsible for and we had to flee our hometown for our own protection. Luckily, I had the support of my two cousins, even though at the time, I still felt alone. My cousins reminded me of everything and I tried to push them away. I forgot what a good night’s sleep was. I had grown up believing that men cannot show weakness. Men are tough. And men don’t ask anyone for help ever. For years, I just gritted my teeth and took whatever demeaning jobs I had to to feed my sister and myself. How she grew into the amazing woman she is today, I’ll never know. I was so angry all of the time, always shouting at her. If she was even ten minutes late, I’d blow up because I had already talked myself into accepting her sudden violent death and when I saw her again my relief turned into fury. Other days I was so numb I barely noticed her. Some days I was so riddled with guilt all I could do was push her away for fear of her exposing my weaknesses. My mind would never let me relax and she suffered for it. And of course she was traumatised too, having lost her family at 8.” 

Thorin swallowed, rubbing his arms. “Shortly after she moved out, we had a fight over the phone and she screamed at me to finally get my act together and deal with what happened. Dwalin, that’s one of my cousins, was there. I felt humiliated because she suggested I’m weak in earshot of my best friend and reacted harshly. But Dwalin actually amazed me. He said she was right. It was the first conversation I ever had about my feelings in my entire life and I was 28. By that time, Dwalin was a tattoo artist and he suggested that I get tattoos to remind me of what was important in my life.” 

He pointed at the shield. “See? There is a D on it, standing for my sister. I always wanted to protect her and not be the one she needed protection against. And the sword is a reminder that I will fight for her and her family. At that time I was still not ready to ever take my weapons down. When Dis saw my tattoos, she gave me hug and said she really appreciated that I always took care of her, and that she knows it must have been rough for me to be father and mother to a little sister. And that’s when I realised that I had not been that for her. I had been harsh like my father, but my little sister never had the softness of our mother because I was always afraid that if I showed the tiniest bit of vulnerability, the world would crash around me.” Thorin swallowed. “I’m sorry, I am talking too much about myself.”

Bilbo dared to put his arm gently on Thorin’s arm, just below the shield. “It’s fine. Actually, it is comforting to hear a guy who comes across as invulnerable and tough admit his struggles.”

Thorin smiled. “It was a long process. I got another tattoo then.” He rolled up his sleeve. “The wounded heart is a bit cliche, but for me it reminded that I am allowed to be bruised. I can be fighting for my family and still show love. And also that my family loved me. The tattoos gave me the confidence to seek out a therapist. I still got PTSD, sometimes it is worse than others, but my tattoos, my therapist and my nephews have helped me deal with it and my life now is happier than it ever was. Dis was eight when our family died and trust me, if I’d have found her talking with a librarian after school, I’d have dragged her off for wasting my time. But with Fíli, I could be more patient and his smiles are the greatest reward.”

“You’ve got such an amazing bond with them. I’m happy for all of you that you found a way to get through your barriers.” Bilbo tilted his head. “Is that your suggestion? Getting tattoos?”

Thorin shrugged. “They helped me. Maybe you’ve got to find another method, my point was that there are always ways to outwit our inner enemies.”

Bilbo nodded thoughtfully. “Tattoos may be the right way for me too. You know, when I talked about that Goblin I did not mention that I can almost physically feel it. It’s sitting there, cables in hand, and I can feel it leech all self-confidence out of me until there is nothing left. Now, obviously I won’t get a tattoo on my head, I’m not willing to shave my hair. But when I say it yanks the wiring loose, I feel it in my heart and my shoulders. If I got tattoos on there, it could show me that this is my brain, and my ideas, and I should be in charge.”

“You will be in charge,” Thorin corrected him gently. “Think it over. If you want I’ll give you my number, you can let me know and I’ll arrange a meeting with Dwalin. He’s an amazing artist.”

“I can see that.” Bilbo’s heart fluttered. Did he want Thorin’s number? What a question! He pulled out his phone. “Your number would be lovely.”

Both felt more light headed than the two glasses of wine each of them had warranted. Bilbo excused himself and went home, almost missing his tram stop.

~*~

The next day, Thorin got a message from Bilbo.

_I’ve got an idea for a tattoo._

_Great. Should I contact Dwalin._

_Please. Before I lose my courage._

They met up with Dwalin two days later, when the boys were back with their parents and Thorin had a bit more free time. 

The tattoo shop was near the town center, it’s outside black and foreboding. Dwalin was a huge guy, his bald head tattooed, his muscle shirt emphasizing his impressive bulk and revealing more tattoos. Bilbo would have been intimidated, had it not been for the friendly smile.

“So Thorin tells me you’ve got an idea?”

Bilbo nodded. “My stories often contain dragons. Mostly evil, but some are more neutral or even good. I thought of a Dragon curling up from my right shoulder to my left shoulder and then down to the heart? Do you think that’s possible?”

Dwalin frowned. “Possible, yes, of course. But big and expensive for your first tattoo perhaps.”

Bilbo waved it off. “I got enough money saved.”

Dwalin nodded. Bilbo wasn’t sure if Thorin had told him why he needed that tattoo, but he got immediately to work, starting to sketch a dragon. 

~*~

It took several sessions to get the dragon done. Thorin was there for every session, and even Fíli and Kíli joined once, drawn by the magical words of “Dwalin” and “Dragon.” Both of them got little dragon “tattoos” from Dwalin, who had a special sharpie for just these occasions.

After the final session, Thorin took Bilbo to a fancy restaurant nearby to celebrate. After they had ordered and handed their menus back to the waiter, Bilbo leaned a little closer to Thorin.

“I cannot thank you enough. You won’t believe it, but yesterday I actually opened my text editor and I got a paragraph written!”

“I’m so proud of you!” Thorin slung an arm around Bilbo. They had become much more touchy in recent weeks, ever since they met on that mountain and hugged. And when Thorin leaned closer, Bilbo did too until the kiss was almost inevitable.

Yes. Life was challenging when goblins resided in your brain. But it could still get better and be occasionally mind-blowingly fantastic.


End file.
